


Twenty-Two Angels And Twenty-Two More

by sunsxleil



Series: Merry Christmas, I Love You [7]
Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Morning, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:09:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27974962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsxleil/pseuds/sunsxleil
Summary: Of the two of them, Therese is usually the one who wakes up first, and Therese is usually the easiest one to wake. That means Carol has to take extra care in getting out of bed this morning to set-up a surprise for Therese, especially since it's Christmas morning.
Relationships: Carol Aird/Therese Belivet
Series: Merry Christmas, I Love You [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035672
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	Twenty-Two Angels And Twenty-Two More

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I am so sorry I didn't get to publish a new one the past few days :(( I was cramming papers and it's almost the end of the semester so things are getting as hellish as can be BUT ANYWAY!!
> 
> Here's one that's been brewing for at least a day. No prompt this time! Just warm Christmas feelings :))

When Carol woke up that morning, she made sure to be extra careful about getting out of bed. Therese had a tendency to be the more sensitive of the two, as she was always easily woken up once Carol got out of bed. But, today was a special day, so Carol needed to get up early without Therese waking. Luckily, the half an hour Carol spent easing out of their bed and creeping out of their bedroom had left Therese fast asleep and hardly close to being awake.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Carol whispers. Therese groans into the pillow, and Carol resists a laugh. She’s almost compelled to kiss Therese’s eyelids while they struggle to lift, but that could only lead to her getting pulled back into bed, and Carol had no intention of spending any more time in bed. Not when her surprise was waiting just beyond their bedroom. “It’s Christmas morning.”

Therese’s eyes open a little bit more as she squints at Carol, and Carol smiles. _Good morning, love_ , Carol thinks, and her heart jumps when Therese stretches and sits up. Therese looks at her under droopy eyelids with a sleepy smile. “Merry Christmas, Carol.”

It’s Christmas every day, anyway, for her and Therese. But Christmas is Christmas. “Merry Christmas, Therese.” Carol pushes herself closer, and kisses Therese’s hairline. The scent of Therese’s hair wafts into her nose, and Carol breathes it in. “I love you, my angel.”

“I love you too, Carol.” Therese smiles up at her when Carol pulls back, and they kiss for a moment. Carol thinks she likes this kind of Christmas: smells of hot chocolate and Therese’s shampoo, the softness of her robe on her skin, and the softness of Therese’s lips on her own.

When they break apart, Therese looks wider awake, and her eyes are bright as the risen sun.

“Come on,” Carol says. “Aren’t you wondering how _I_ woke you up and not the other way around?”

Therese smiles. “Does it have something to do with Christmas morning?”

“It does.” Carol pushes off the bed and holds a hand out to Therese. “Come now, darling, you wouldn’t want to keep me waiting, would you?”

Therese takes her hand, and Carol feels like princess charming, her sleeping beauty roused out of bed with mussed up hair and lips she wants to kiss. Christ, the spell her angel has on her. Carol pulls Therese behind her, out of their bedroom and into the apartment beyond. There are silver garlands all over the walls, and mistletoe above every doorway that, if Carol says so herself, look more impressive after the fact that she had set all that up in under an hour.

It was all worth it, to see the look of wonder on Therese’s face.

“When did you do this?” Therese asks. “How did you get it done?”

“Shush, my little angel. That would ruin the magic.” Carol winks, and Therese’s face breaks into a smile. “And that’s not all that I can do.”

They move past the living room and into the kitchen, where Carol is careful not to let Therese look past the Christmas tree. No, but Therese’ attention is fixed anywhere but—her eyes danced from garland to garland, and the more Carol looks at it, the less magical it gets, but then here is Therese who seems to never get enough of it, and Carol feels like she’s back in that department store. Except now, it’s garlands instead of dolls, mistletoe instead of overhead signs, and Therese with no Santa hat but also nothing else on but a robe and her messy morning hair. Carol is just as if not more captivated now, and it takes everything in her not to lean against the kitchen doorway and marvel at the angel gawking at their set table.

“But how—”

“Darling, I will not ruin the magic by answering _how_ ,” and Carol moves instead beside Therese, where she kisses her, and how sweet is a kiss from her _lover_ on Christmas morning. “Ask ‘what now’ so I can answer you.”

Therese kisses her again. “What now?”

Carol chuckles, and oh the sight of Therese biting her lip. “Now, wash your face in the sink, then let’s have our Christmas breakfast.”

Carol had gotten some sausages and ham, and had repurposed some of the turkey they had last night into turkey sandwiches. There is chocolate and, while they both prefer coffee, one never can go wrong with a little spiked chocolate. And Carol knows Therese liked some marshmallows with her chocolate, with her little sweet tooth.

“I’ll stop asking how, since you don’t seem to be budging,” and Carol laughs, and she raises her cup to take a sip of hot chocolate, or perhaps just to hide a smirk from Therese. “But _when_ did you buy all this?”

“Oh, here and there.” Carol says. She gulps down her chocolate and sets it back down on the table. “The sausage I had Abby buy last week. Couldn’t have it delivered here.”

“Because I would find out?”

“Because, then it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore!” When Therese takes a sip of her chocolate, a line of it paints the top of her lips. Carol feels herself melting at the sight, and she wonders how she got so lucky—and knows she wouldn’t have it any other way. “And you look heavens better surprised like this.”

“Do I?” Therese raises her brows and smirks, and the twinkle in her eyes gets Carol thinking of other ways Therese could look. Sure, Carol thinks, Therese absolutely bright with wonder is a Therese she would love to keep seeing, but there are so many other parts of Therese Carol wants to keep and cherish.

And she has them. And she cherishes them.

“You do.” Carol says, and they eat their turkey sandwiches and ham and sausages in silent peace. Outside, there’s a medley of honking cars and Christmas carols and shouts and cheers of ‘ _Merry Christmas_ ’, and it’s magical, the way the name of a day can change it all: the atmosphere, the mood, the tone. And even the way Therese looks, Carol thinks, has a certain glow to it that only Christmas ever gives.

“Are we going out today?” Therese asks.

“We could take a walk if you prefer,” but the look in Therese’s eyes tells Carol there would be no such request. The joy from the outside world may fill their small apartment, but neither of them feel any such obligation to join the festivities. In fact, as Carol had it, they’d have festivities of their own. “I, for one, prefer to stay indoors.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Therese says. “Me too.” And they sit, sipping hot chocolate. Therese looks at Carol as if she were the lights, the garlands, the ornaments, the star on a Christmas tree set up high in Rockefeller Center, or in the snuggly corner of a living room. Carol sips at her chocolate and thinks, well, she’s probably looking at Therese like that too, isn’t she?

With their breakfast finished, Carol takes a deep breath before leading Therese into the living room.

“Don’t think my surprises have ended yet.” Carol says as she watches Therese set the needle down on, what else, Billie Holiday. “Go check around the tree.”

_Living for you…_

So, Therese does.

“Oh, Carol—”

_Is easy living, it’s easy to live…_

“Bring it out.” Carol feels the excitement bubbling up from her toes to her fingers. _This_ , this is the prime surprise she had been preparing. The decorations and the breakfast? A prelude. This, this is the grand crescendo.

She had been thinking about it since Therese surprised her on her birthday.

The present, as Therese pulls it out from the corner, is a big box almost reaching the height of Carol’s boots. The bow, as Carol so carefully did it, is a golden bow glittering against dark green wrapping paper. Carol bites her lip as she kneels down beside Therese, and there’s that look of disbelief on Therese’s eyes again, and the bright smile that accompanies it.

Carol raises her brows, and that’s all Therese needs to open it.

From a glance at the contents, Therese laughs. “What gave you the idea to do this?” As she laughs, Carol notices the growing pink in Therese’s cheeks, and the relentless tapping of her fingers. Oh, this was worth all that time and hiding of wrapping paper and gifts in her glove compartment.

Within the box, all twenty-two other presents are wrapped. Individually! Because what better surprise than many surprises that can’t ambush you all at once. Carol sucks in a breath as Therese begins to scrape off the tape of one, and she runs a hand through her hair thrice while Therese teases her.

Therese spares a glance at her and laughs, and Carol is struck with confusion. Then Therese shakes her head and finally unwraps the first present, which is—

“You said you wished we could frame your pictures.” Carol shrugs. “I hope you don’t mind me snooping around your collection.”

The top one in the box is a framed picture from their first Christmas together, here in their Madison Avenue apartment. Abby had come that day, and Danny, and it really was just another normal Christmas with the two of them together, but that had been years ago. In the picture, Carol is looking at the camera with her nose buried in Therese’s hair, and Therese is just smiling, her cheeks pushed so far up from the smile breaking out on her lips.

All the next ones are just year after year after year of memories. There was that time they went ice-skating, and Carol had tried to take a picture of Therese before Therese inevitable slipped back down on her bottom. Then there was their second trip west, where they had revisited every place they had gone to before, and planted better memories where there were hurtful ones. Then there was Rindy’s school play, and their fifth anniversary, and Abby’s failed attempt at a photo where half their bodies were cut off because she couldn’t stop laughing at Carol being unable to stay still around a dog. In Carol’s defense, the dog was snoopy. But Therese likes that photo, if only to laugh at Carol (as Abby definitely would when she sees that in their living room).

“I’m still wondering how we haven’t gotten pictures framed yet.” Therese says, and by then the unwrapped, framed pictures are around them, their spaces-to-be on the living room walls already reserved in Carol and Therese’s minds. “We’ve been together for ten years and this is the first time we’ll be hanging pictures.”

And, while they do have pictures, Carol and Therese have more pictures sitting in Therese’s box of developed pictures than hanging anywhere in the apartment. It would’ve been a waste, Carol had thought, if they’d let their lives go by without ever letting those pictures see the daylight. Carol personally is fine with just staring at Therese all the days of her life, but letting a little more of their lives decorate the apartment feels a lot more personal, especially if anyone were to visit.

“Well, we’ve gotten through ten years.” At that, Carol stands, and all the discarded wrapping paper is crumpled into balls, thrown onto the couch. “The next ten will at least have some of your photographs on our walls.”

Therese laughs, and it’s a wonderful sound, a joyous sound, and when Therese launches herself at Carol, Carol is ready for the embrace. They twirl around once before settling in each other’s arms, and they sway to the beat of their record playing in the background. In the corner of the living room stands their tree, its twenty-two angels wrapped around it like any other Christmas in their household, and on the living room floor are the twenty-two framed pictures from Carol’s present. Year after year, and she has yet to be tired of this. She hopes she would never, but part of her knows she will only look forward to it more and more. Carol buries her nose at the dip between Therese’s neck and shoulder and breathes her lover, her _angel_ in, and she knows.

She’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed that one! The title is inspired by a certain line from Chapter 13 in the novel Carol is based from, The Price of Salt by Patricia Highsmith:
> 
> "... they put away the Christmas decorations, and Carol had refolded the string of angels and put them between the pages of a book. "I'm going to keep these," she had said. "With twenty-two angels to defend me, I can't lose." "


End file.
